


Land of Wood and Trolls

by Crazyapplekiss



Series: Farther than the Scandinavian Plains [1]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen, Jamaica, Trolls, Year 0 (Stand Still Stay Silent)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyapplekiss/pseuds/Crazyapplekiss
Summary: Smack in the middle of the sea, surrounded by islands much larger than their own, the people of the small island prayed that the chaos of the world would not reach them. Yet the Rash laps at the shores, teasing the life within against their own mortality - yet it stands firm. They will not fall. The Rash is not the end.It is the start of something more.





	Land of Wood and Trolls

Smack in the middle of the sea, surrounded by islands much larger than their own, the people of the small island prayed that the chaos of the world would not reach them.  Yet the Rash laps at the shores, teasing the life within against their own mortality.

The people had first been superstitious. They heard the stories from afar. News outlets swarmed the television like flies around the trash in the evening sun. News that Denmark had a virus that was spreading like wildfire across the flat plains. Norway and Sweden had got caught in the fray. Finland, Russia, China. Lands many had never even heard of or scarcely seen. Even Iceland - wherever that may be - had shut its doors, closing off there boarders for safety. Men had been glued to the stories wherever a television or radio was present, howling that the foreign people offshore were going crazy. Something like the Rash could never be _real_. Another lie of false words and fear to keep men in line they supposed. It had not reached them therefore they would not believe.

The superstition had begun to dim after some time though.

Word that Canada had been stuck and America was being attacked by the illness. Pictures had floated around of people with masks and long coats. Emergency messages bared warnings to stay away from infected animals and people. The people of Jamaica had become afraid. There families could not reach them, so far from their home among the waves and one by one each country had become silent as reporters had become ill and failed to show up. And rumors. So many rumors had spread that creatures had begun to emerge. Creatures - people feared - that had come of the rash. That they once were _human_.

It was all too much to handle at once. Though nothing had reached the land yet everyones lives had stalled. Trade was none existent. Travel was a thing of the past.  What happened? People wondered yet no one had dared to look over the bleak shores for answers. Answers they had never asked for that washed up on the beach in the form of a creature of nightmares. Could such a horror be evaded? Brought by man or by the gods as punishment? Or had the land - as beautiful as she - finally lost her luck she had been blessed with for so many centuries?

The Rash came and spread since the fishermen had dealt with the creatures that had never stopped scarring the boarders of the beach, yet not all had succumbed to the Rash as everyone had feared. Some had died free from becoming the monsters, others weren't so lucky. While a blessed few had gained immunity and had a gift given to them by God that no one could explain. Whether it was witchcraft or something more it was a start of something that gave the people a chance at survival.

Smack in the middle of the sea, far from the lands that collapsed around her. Jamaica stood. Small and battered. Baring mountains that tore winds and stopped storms, covered in mild forests and greenery for miles on end with veins of rivers flowing in between. Occasionally an animal or two - a stray horse, goat or mule wandered through the drunken silence. Small towns and lone houses marked the plains and cities and highways filled its body. No longer were the lights polluting the skies and blocking the stars. The wind carried noises of nature and maybe a voice as gentle as the air that flowed through the tropical land. And where the nightmares grew a mage would follow. It wasn't anything special. A large rock floating in the water. No more than a blotch against the large mark of lands that surrounded her. Yet within, life managed to survive as the world died.

I could go on about how the little island i call my home had become my biggest fear, anticipator or nightmare as the world grew silent around me. No, i won't divulge those facts. I have lived it all once before. It is best to keep moving forward. The power within me grows strong as the voices that surround me grow stronger. The sunset calls for work to begin.

For now just sit watch the sun as it kisses the horizon and bathes the land in its blessed glow and pray that the claws of the damaged and forgotten may never reach you.

The world will keep turning. Tomorrow will start a new.


End file.
